


In The Dusk

by thesmallredone



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/EXTRA, Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Arjuna's downfall, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2020-08-10 01:37:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20127229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesmallredone/pseuds/thesmallredone
Summary: The Kurukshetra war is over. Arjuna ingests the bitter aftermath.





	1. Chapter 1

It was over.  
Arjuna's feet were heavy on the polished marble floor, glistening at dawn. The heavy clang of glorious sets of armors reentering their home was sharp in his ears.  
Victorious, yet so very tired.

"It is over." - he told himself, calming his restless thoughts. And indeed, it was. The charioteer's son was dead. The Kaurava army stood down. He was the one to release the last arrow, the one to end the war. He was the one to strike the suta down. Powerless. Both hands firmly on the muddy wheel, gifting Arjuna one final look.  
He didn't have the privilege to second-guess. His mentor had spoken. He did what had to be done. For the sake of protecting his brothers and his kingdom. To avenge his men. To avenge his sons. He did the right thing. He was the only one able to match Karna, and so he had.  
So many died.  
Had he died, himself?  
It really was over.

Arjuna refocused his attention as he and his brothers approached the main throne room. It was time for the rituals of celebration and the rituals of grief. But no matter. It is over, he told himself. All the right things had been done. As the servants rushed to free them of their heavy metal shells, Arjuna almost missed the familiar figure enter through the opulent curtains.  
"My sons!"  
The voice came from up close, yet it sounded so far away.  
"Mother." - Yudhishtira greeted on the brothers' behalf. A faint smile of a tired man who was running on the sheer triumphant outcome of their struggle. Arjuna heard it, for sure.  
Mother's smile shone through the haze, brilliant and sincere.  
He only heard the hum of voices in his mind.  
"The bodies are being brought to the city as we speak" - said Yudhishtira in an absentminded tone.  
The dead may rest, for it was over.  
"That is what I wanted to talk about", mother spoke on.  
Yudhishtira paused. 

Arjuna dropped another heavy, gilded layer from his body. Surely this was something he had earned.  
It was over.  
He did not truly listen; and yet he still heard.  
"Your sons shall oblige to your wish."  
A pause from Kunti.  
A faint wisp of heaviness creeped in through the briliance of ornated windows.  
"...Pandava rites"  
Something was off.  
He threw a glance towards the pair conversing.  
Mother looked... Was that shame?  
A sad, albeit bitter frown.  
"...for Karna"  
This...  
It looked like relief...  
How could there be relief?  
"...for your brother."

Ah, for...  
Ah.  
He didn't mishear it.  
There was no way he misheard it.  
Arjuna stood frozen.  
Yudhishtira grabbed Kunti. The air was still. His voice rang through the hall.  
"Mother! What is this you speak of?"  
So, that was it...  
Her story unfolded in tears.  
Arjuna's eyes slowly widened with every word.  
The charioteer's son.  
The first child of his own mother.  
The eldest brother, the one to carve the path for all...  
It was over...  
The feeling which followed him for eighteen days.  
Nay, for tens of years.  
When was the first time he had questioned it all?  
What for?  
Who did it bring good to?  
Was this his karma, after all this time?  
Yesterday, he had killed the rival of his lifetime. Today, his brother was dead.  
Killed by his hands.  
At the behest of his kingdom, his family and his best friend.  
His vision became clouded.  
Krishna...  
Was he really only an elaborate toy in the hands of the gods?  
In his fathers'?

Yudhishtira cursed his mother and the entire women kind in front of the entire court and the three dazed brothers, but the middle one had closed himself off.  
Arjuna's knees collapsed under him as he gripped his grimacing face with the hand which used to grip the bow.  
His other hand fell to porcelain floor, numb, as quickly as he set loose that fated arrow he would grow to regret for the rest of his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krishna was absolute in his desire to perform the rites.

The white river flowed, under the white sky, embraced by the translucent rows of white trees.  
The white sun was dancing upon the waves.  
Arjuna followed the flow in silence of the white bank.  
His shadow was dragging after him, the only pitch black thing in the bright scenery.  
Gaze downcast, one foot after the other.  
He could have been walking for ages.  
The leaves jingled lightly with the movement.  
The footsteps in the river murmured in a distant melody.  
Endless corridors of white ceilings.  
Thin gauze curtains caressing his cheeks.  
The glistening waters stopped.  
The procession had reached the tall-roofed gazebo.  
Arjuna raised his head.  
The white-clad mass formed a circle around the ornate, wood-covered platform.  
Four men, led by Duryodhana, emerged carrying the sun wrapped in white gauze on their shoulders.  
The body of his brother.  
He should've carried the remains.  
Even though he wouldn't have been able to take it.  
He should've faced him, one more time.  
He wanted to, even though he was forbidden.  
He wanted to see his face.  
The one he couldn't see when he let the Anjalikastra go.

Four men walked around the podium.  
Once.  
Twice.  
Three times.  
Arjuna watched, his eyes empty.  
He should've carried Karna.  
And yet...

The men approached the step and slowly, laid down the body on top of the podium wood pile.  
As they backed away, Krishna climbed the platform carrying a golden bowl, and a lit torch behind his back.  
Arjuna's heart skipped.  
Krishna. He was like a brother to him.  
Like the one he should have had.  
Like a brother he had led him to kill.  
Like a brother he had lost.  
He felt his gut wrench.  
He would not look at Krishna.  
He forced his eyes upon the dead brother.  
The wind carried loose pieces of gauze around Karna's body.  
Through the wrappings, he could discern his hands, his feet. His face.  
He could discern the details of the massive gold necklace embellished with rubies put around Karna's thin neck.  
He knew it was the only thing keeping his head attached to the body.  
His beautiful, ashen-haired head...

Krishna sang.

Arjuna closed his eyes.  
He felt his fingers sliding through Karna's hair to the nape of his neck.  
He could feel him sigh.  
He could feel the movement under his fingers.  
On a mid-neck vertebra, he traced a scar.

The jewels hanging from the bowl chimed. Krishna sprinkled oil over the body as he made the first circle around the pyre.

Arjuna's thoughts wandered off to everyone he had lost in the battle.  
To his sons.  
He felt blood in his mouth as he clenched his teeth.  
His mind went blank.  
He saw all the dead standing in front of him, as far as his eyes could reach.  
They were all looking him straight in the eye - all but one.  
In front of everyone stood Karna, looking up to the sky.  
Arjuna stood there, entranced by the two turquoise jewels reflecting the endless blue.  
They looked the emptiest he'd ever seen them.  
He wondered what was unraveling in the ashen-haired head of this man.  
His brother's head, the one he had so kindly removed off his shoulders.  
As Karna dragged his gaze down to Arjuna, he realized that all the other faces save for his had dissipated into the fog.  
Karna gave Arjuna a serious expression.  
In the blink of an eye, Arjuna turned his head around in fear.

The second chime of the oil bowl tore him from his vision.

Arjuna's eyes were all teary.  
As Krishna was making the second circle around the pyre, Arjuna's vision turned all but blurry until he could perceive only white.  
The white dome up above.  
People clad in white garbs.  
White veils flapping in the wind.

And the most white, this man who stood before his eyes even when they were tightly shut.

He remembered their very first tournament and the resolve this man displayed at every obstacle the Kshatriya could place for him.  
The rising gold and red sun tilaka symbol in between his furrowed brows. What the son of the charioteer performed, only to be able to display his worth.  
He remembered the attraction he felt. The jealousy. What he feared and what he coveted in him.  
Both the undeniable righteousness and the inexorable determination.  
The look he had in his eye as he judged the people, the grip of his hand as he held his bow firmly and focused on his target.  
He remembered what he promised to himself, that he would be the end of this man.

He was awash with the bittersweet feeling of victory and it pumped through him harder as the tears gathered on his lashes.

He remembered the first time they touched after target practice on the left bank of the Ganges, away from the prying eyes of Hastinapur.  
The sinking gold and red sun dancing in between the willow leaves upon their wet skin, as if mocking the bewildering spark they dared to act upon.  
He remembered the attraction they felt. The inexplicable fascination for each other.  
What they could see in each other and what they could not.  
Both the uncomfortably undeniable thing they had for each other and the insatiable thirst.  
The look they had in their eyes as they met and the touch that had to be broken off as they parted ways.  
He remembered what they promised to each other, that one would end the other no matter what.

Opening the eyes to the third jewel chime, as a single tear left his eye, Arjuna saw Karna standing in front of the pyre pedestal. 

Standing aghast, Arjuna looked at his lover. Karna gave him a serene look. He had kept his promise. Brother's blood on his hands or not.  
Arjuna drank in this picture, as if it were the last thing he'd see in this world.  
He knew that the sun would set and rise again.  
He knew that the river would keep running when they have left.  
He knew that the willows would keep silent even if they never returned.  
He knew it all.  
Had he changed his mind somewhere along the way?  
He swallowed the weight of his soul, and his mouth moved in silence.  
"Don't..."  
Karna's lips sparked into the faintest of smiles. His eyes looked very tired.  
"...Leave..."  
For as long as he lived, Arjuna would not forget the sight of his brother's eyes.  
"...me..."  
Krishna stepped off the platform. With his left hand, he raised the torch, and in a single swift move lit the pyre drenched in oils.  
The carefully arranged pile of incensed wood with the corpse on top set ablaze in the blink of an eye.  
Swallowing the top of the pedestal wholly, the flare washed away Arjuna's last thought.  
The flames subsided and calmed themselves in his next three gasping breaths.  
The fire danced across his gaping eyes.  
He couldn't move, but now he did see beyond the flames.  
His brothers, his wives, and just as he was rejoining the group, Krishna.  
And Krishna's face twisting into an unmistakably wayward smile.

Arjuna had no more thoughts.  
He saw no more visions. He could not even see the light of the pyre.  
He only heard a child's cry.  
His disoriented gaze perceived a silver-haired child covering its face in the arms of a white-clad woman.  
Unable to look or stand anymore, Arjuna took a slow step back, leaning into the row of men behind his back.

A woman approached the scorching white of the pyre, and stepped onto the flaming platform.  
Arjuna pushed his back into the next row of people, frantically trying to peel his eyes off the unfolding scene.  
He heard a pained scream as he managed to power through the crowd. He ran.

"...Please"  
Arjuna could not feel his legs. He tore through the marble corridor, faster and faster.  
He kept running, the echoes of his footsteps urging him on to get as far away as possible  
The long row of marble pillars passed him by as the setting sun counted his steps in the spaces between.  
With one final push, he left the temple and fell onto a scarcely torch lit path leading down the hill.  
Without thinking, he got up and made for the river following the path.  
"...Please!"  
With a frenzied expression, he ran mindlessly before he could recognize all of these places he knew.  
Upon reaching the river and passing all of his usual training spots on the river bank, he threw himself into the shallow water and onto his knees.  
"Please..."  
He looked at the sun setting below the horizon, mumbling to himself under his breath.  
"Please..!"  
"Please don't leave me..!"  
His face contorted as he crushed his hands over it.  
He knew what was going to happen.  
Like a true hero, he had fulfilled his destiny.  
The sun fell and not a trail of light stayed on the river surface, and with it, his last thread of sanity withered away.

Throwing his hands into the river and his face up towards the purple sky, Arjuna screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me a while, but it's done. Now hopefully I can move on to writing something less excruciating for the boys. I feel like it's safe to say this could serve as a 'background story' for the two, in what I'll be creating next. But I feel accomplished in publishing this, yay!  
I made hogwuna (my beta) swear not to reveal my fic-writing-thought-process to anyone ever, so that's good. Y'all are safer not knowing.  
My lack of karjuna-shipping pals is visible, please tell me how you liked this work if you feel so inclined.  
Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> In short, I'm a shy ass who lacked some deep (maybe) Karjuna fics over here so I hopped in to maybe add something of the sort (perhaps). My first thing over here, hope it looks like... something. Idk. Beta-d by my own Hindu god hogwuna, naming this piece was a blast. Hare Krishna.


End file.
